


Romancing with Dragons

by Nicnac



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Dragon Crowley, F/F, Female Aziraphale (Good Omens), Female Crowley (Good Omens), Genderqueer Crowley (Good Omens), Genderqueer Dragons, Human Aziraphale (Good Omens), Ineffable Wives (Good Omens), Other, Romance, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:28:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22194082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicnac/pseuds/Nicnac
Summary: When a dragon moves into a cave in the mountains above the village of Paradise Falls, Aziraphale is chosen to be the virgin sacrifice to ward it off, which is the last straw, really. Meanwhile Crowley never asked for a virgin sacrifice and isn't interested in a virgin sacrifice. She is interested in Aziraphale though. Somehow, they make it work.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 168
Kudos: 302
Collections: Courts GO Re-Reads





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Heads up on the rating: I'm not entirely sure how I want the ending to go yet in terms of T vs. E, so I've sort of split the difference for the moment and will adjust accordingly once I get it figured out.

A dragon had come to Paradise Falls. Not the village Paradise Falls mind, nestled down in the valley, but to the mountain with the waterfall from which the town derived its name. Much too close for comfort in any case. Something had to be done. What should be done was still up for debate at the moment, but something had to be done. On that everyone was agreed.

Well, almost everyone. The men of the village had gathered together in Gabriel’s house – there was no official leader of the village unless one counted the far-off Queen in the capital, but Gabriel had neatly and unofficially slotted himself into the role – to discuss the issue. Aziraphale was there too, but her opinion was not wanted and she was allowed to be present was her brother wanted someone to cook and serve refreshments. Otherwise she was quite certain Gabriel would have made her leave for the duration; never mind that he had neither made nor bought the house. Their father had built it with his own two hands, and in Aziraphale’s estimation that meant now that he was gone the house belonged to her just as much as Gabriel. Despite that, she knew no one here cared for her thoughts on the matter, so she sat in the background as still and silent as she could.

“For God’s sake, Aziraphale. Just say whatever it is so you can stop squirming and sighing and distracting us all,” Gabriel snapped. Admittedly, staying still and silent were not talents particularly among Aziraphale’s skill set outside of when she was reading.

“I was just wondering if we really need to do anything,” Aziraphale said.

“If we need to do… there’s a bloodthirsty dragon sitting right above our heads,” said Gabriel. “And you think we should just sit on our asses and do nothing?”

“It’s not right above our heads,” Aziraphale mumbled. The spot where they estimated the dragon had built their lair was a good five miles off as the crow flies – or dragon flew as the case may be – and even further once one took into account all the up and down of hills and mountains in between. Granted five miles wasn’t so far for a dragon, but that wasn’t Aziraphale’s main point anyway. “We don’t know the dragon is bloodthirsty. It’s been two weeks since they were first spotted and they haven’t done anything yet.”

“Of course it’s bloodthirsty. It’s a dragon. Dragons are bloodthirsty,” Sandalphon said, as though explaining something to a small child. “It’s just bidding it’s time.”

“For what?” Aziraphale asked. “Why would they need to bide their time when they could very easily wipe out our whole village if that was their intention?”

“Yes, exactly, thank you Aziraphale. This dragon could easily wipe out our whole village if it wanted to, which is why we have to take drastic action as soon as possible,” Gabriel said.

“That’s not what I…” Aziraphale let out a sigh. “Look, everything I’ve ever read on the subject—“

“Oh, now she’s going to lord her fancy book learning over us, are you missy?” said Shadwell.

“I’m not lording anything over anyone, and I’m happy to share my books with anyone who’s interested.” She wouldn’t lend them out of course – some of her books were very rare and delicate and they were all hard to get a hold of way out here in the country and every single one of them had a close personal sentimental value to her. But she would be happy to let someone else read them, provided they did so where she could keep an eye on them and make sure they were caring for them properly.

“As I was saying,” Aziraphale continued, “everything I’ve read about dragons suggests they are just as intelligent as any person. So I’m sure if someone just went up and talked to them—”

“You think someone should go talk to the dragon?” Gabriel asked, his voice thick with mockery. “And who’s going to do that, huh Aziraphale? You?”

“Well. That is, I…” Her reading certainly suggested that dragons were intelligent and could be reasoned with, but they also could get a bit… tetchy at times and do things like raze whole kingdoms to the ground. Granted, it had been a very small kingdom and it did seem the people there had been frightfully rude, but still. They were hardly the kind of being Aziraphale wanted to have a one-on-one with.

“Yeah, I thought so,” Gabriel said. “Look why don’t you just go to bed, huh? Let the men handle things from here.”

Aziraphale pursed her lips, then sighed and did as Gabriel said. Obviously her opinions weren’t going to change their minds, so might as well just let them get on with it then. She was sure everything would work out somehow.

* * *

It was entirely possible, Aziraphale thought to herself, that things would have “worked out” like this regardless. She had never quite fit in with the rest of the town, and it had only gotten worse as she had gotten older. Older and still unmarried. And, if she were entirely honest with herself – something that maybe she should start doing more often, seeing as how ignoring it and keeping it in had gotten her less than nowhere – she’d known for a long time now that Gabriel thought of her as a nuisance rather than a sister or the person who kept his household together seeing as he wasn’t married yet either and he certainly wasn’t going to do it himself. So maybe even if after Gabriel snapped at her she had demurred and held her tongue, she still would have ended up in this situation.

That in no way stopped her from wishing, as she tugged away at her restraints, that she had kept her mouth shut.

“Animals,” she cursed quietly to herself. But that wasn’t fair at all. Animals didn’t sneak into other animals’ bedchambers in the dead of night, strip them down, truss them up, and then cart halfway up a mountain as a virgin sacrifice to a dragon who had, as of this point, given zero indication they needed anything of the kind.

Unfortunately, even if they were a bunch of savage idiots, the whole lot of them, they were a bunch of savage idiots that knew how to tie a very secure knot. Aziraphale had, after a lot of very undignified rolling around on the ground, managed to manoeuvre her hands in front of her rather than behind her and to pull the gag out of her mouth, but the knots around her wrists and ankles stayed stubbornly tied. It was making the first step in her plan – getting free of her bonds – rather difficult. Though perhaps that was just as well as she had yet to figure out the next step. If she went back to the village then they’d just tie her up again and trundle her back up here. But there was nowhere else she could think to go, and certainly nowhere else she could go while completely naked.

As she was still sorting all that out, a rather larger snag in her plans appeared. A very, very large snag. An approximately twenty meters long snag from snout to tail and even larger in wingspan if Aziraphale was any judge, though admittedly she probably wasn’t. Quite large in any case.

For a moment Aziraphale had hope the dragon was going to fly right past her. They did actually fly past her, only to turn around and begin wheeling about overhead. Rather like a bird of prey circling its next meal. Oh dear.

The dragon circled overhead a few times before banking in for a landing on the slope directly in front of Aziraphale. While her preference would have been to stay far, far away from them, at least until they’d been confirmed to be nonthreatening, she was hardly going to miss an opportunity to observe a real dragon. The scales of their underbelly had a slightly more… delicate look to them, belied by the brilliant crimson shade of them. Their main body scales seemed less flashy in comparison, but only until the sunlight caught them just right and brought out the millions of iridescent shades in the deep black. And the wings! Aziraphale had read about the wings of course, but in her mind the transition from scaled body to feathered wings always came off slightly ungainly. Not so at all in real life; they were beautiful, really. The dragon was simply a stunning creature to look at on the whole, though Aziraphale would undoubtedly have been able to appreciate that more if she hadn’t been preoccupied with the possibility of being eaten in the near future.

Finally the dragon landed, and settled their great head next to the ground so Aziraphale and them could be eye to great luminous yellow eye. “Bit of a jam you’ve gotten yourself into.”

Aziraphale blinked. “I… Sorry, what was that?”

“I said, bit of a jam you’ve gotten yourself into,” the dragon repeated.

Yes, that’s what Aziraphale had thought they’d said; good to know she wasn’t hallucinating. Then a moment later the meaning of what they’d said sunk in. “ _I_ haven’t gotten myself into anything,” she bristled, probably at least twice as indignant as the comment called for. It was one thing to suspect she might have in part brought this situation upon herself, it was another thing entirely to be called out on it by a third party.

“What do you call all this then?” the dragon asked, using their nose to indicate Aziraphale's entire… situation.

She pinked, being abruptly reminded of her very unclothed state. It took a bit of wriggling, but she managed to pull her knees up inside the circle of her arms, affording herself a little modesty. “I’m supposed to be a virgin sacrifice,” she mumbled, finding her new position made her knees very convenient for mumbling things into.

“Aren’t you a bit old for that?” the dragon asked.

“Excuse me?” Aziraphale said, gape-mouthed. Dragons were supposed to be tetchy, not horribly rude.

“You don’t have to take it like that; makes no difference to me how old you are,” the dragon said. “I’ve just only ever heard the word virgin to talk about young humans, so I assumed that’s what it meant.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale said. Yes, she supposed she could see how someone who didn’t know the meaning of the word might make that mistake. “No, a virgin is someone who hasn’t… well, there’s some debate over the exact definition, but suffice to say I could technically qualify.”

“Huh. So you’re here as a virgin sacrifice for the harvest? Something like that?” the dragon asked.

“It’s the wrong season for that,” Aziraphale corrected automatically. The she quickly added, “Not that we make a habit of sacrificing virgins for the harvest regardless of the season.”

“Course not. Be ridiculous, that,” the dragon said. “No, you lot only sacrifice virgins for…”

Aziraphale looked away. It was terribly embarrassing really, but she supposed there was no chance of getting out of it. “To dragons.”

“To dra—what, do you mean me? I never asked for a virgin.”

“Yes, that’s what I said.” Loudly and at great length as they were carting her up the mountain, and she’d only stopped when they’d gagged her. “But they all insisted something had to be done, and this was apparently the only thing they could think to do.”

“And so you volunteered yourself. Aren’t you a little angel?” the dragon said.

“I am not _little_ ,” Aziraphale objected. There were other women in the village who were little, who were petite and lithe and ever so lovely. It was a good look for them. But Aziraphale was tall and strong and full-bodied and round and she preferred it that way, thank you. Little, honestly.

The dragon tilted their head to the side and regarded her. “I suppose by human standards you aren’t. But in comparison to me all humans are very little.” The dragon brought their head back to its normal position. Their massive head that Aziraphale could easily drape her whole body over if she ever dared to try. Little was something of a relative term after all; she supposed she could accept it under that understanding.

“In any case, I didn’t volunteer. Why do you think I’m tied up?” she said.

“Suppose I just assumed it was part of the aesthetic,” said the dragon, quite reasonably. They just kept making all these very reasonable points. It was quite vexing, really.

“So you aren’t going to eat me, then?” Aziraphale asked. She was fairly certain not at this point, but one could never be too certain about that sort of thing.

“Eat you? Why would I eat you?” the dragon demanded.

“Some dragons eat people!” Aziraphale defended. Even the very kind books about dragons were clear on that point.

“Yes, and some humans tie up other humans and dump them out in the wilderness as a virgin sacrifice. Doesn’t mean you want me to go around assuming that was the sort of thing you did, does it?”

“You did assume that,” Aziraphale said. Granted they assumed she was doing it to herself, but the point stood. “So you don’t eat humans then.”

“Eh… only the really stupid ones,” the dragon said.

“The stupid ones? And who are you to judge who the stupid ones are?” Aziraphale asked.

“Seems pretty stupid to me, coming up to a dragon’s lair waving around a sword and death threats when you’re wrapped up inside a nice metal baking dish.”

“Oh. Well, I suppose if it’s a case of kill or be killed…” Aziraphale said. She could hardly fault the dragon for defending themselves. “But I still think it’s gruesome that you eat them.”

“They’re dead, little angel. I don’t think they mind,” said the dragon.

“Fine. But you won’t be eating anyone from the village, right? Provided they don’t come after you first.” And there was no worry of that, at least. The men of the village weren’t cowards, but they weren’t that brave either.

“I won’t,” the dragon agreed.

“And you won’t destroy the village?”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

“Or eat any of the livestock?”

“Well, wait a second, what kind of livestock?” the dragon asked. “I don’t bother with chickens obviously, sheep and pigs are barely a mouthful, not worth the trouble really, and I don’t like horses, but cattle. A cow or two can make a very good snack.”

“A snack? You can’t destroy someone’s livelihood just because you’re feeling a bit peckish,” Aziraphale said.

“Alright, fine, I won’t eat the livestock. Happy?” the dragon said.

Aziraphale beamed at them. “Immensely. Now I can go back to the village and let everyone know they needn’t worry.”

“Hold on. You want to go back there?” the dragon said incredulously.

“Yes,” Aziraphale said. It was her home. She didn’t see what the problem was.

“You want to go back to the village of people that tied you up and left you out to get eaten by a dragon.”

Oh right. That was the problem. “Well it’s different now. I’ve talked to you and we’ve sorted everything out,” Aziraphale said.

“Yes you know that and I know that, but are they going to believe it?” the dragon asked.

“It’s not as though I have any other options,” Aziraphale said. That was precisely the problem she’d been having before the dragon showed up.

“We-ell,” the dragon said. “It seems to me there is one other possibility. They gave you to me as a virgin sacrifice, didn’t they? And I know they thought I was going to eat you, but I don’t see why anyone else should get to tell me what to do with my sacrifice. Maybe instead of eating you I want to take you back to my lair to be a part of my treasure hoard.”

“Your treasure – I’m not some gem encrusted goblet,” Aziraphale protested.

“Course not. You’re clever and you can talk. Much better company than a goblet. And I take good care of my treasure; point of pride for a dragon, that. I’d make sure you’d have everything you need. Food, water. Clothes. Furniture. All those other fiddly little house bits. Entertainment.”

“Books?” Aziraphale asked before she could stop herself.

“Loads of books,” the dragon assured her. “All the books you could ever want. And you’d be able to come and go as you please. Wouldn’t be taking very good care of you if I held you somewhere against your will, would I?”

It was a tempting offer. If Aziraphale was being honest with herself, as she promised she would be, she didn’t especially want to go back to Paradise Falls. She wouldn’t say there was nothing there for her, but there wasn’t much, and even less each passing year as she continued to refuse to conform to expectations of her. Interests and passions that were charmingly odd in a fresh-faced young girl were much less charming in the batty old maid who was fast becoming a spinster. On the other hand, while the dragon had been rudely abrupt at times, they had never been unkind and they seemed very sincere and earnest in their offer. Which meant Aziraphale had an opportunity to see a real dragon’s hoard up close and in person. If she could truly leave whenever she wanted, then it would be no worse a place to stay a while and figure out what to do than any other and better than most available to her. And, well… the books.

”But we’re not calling it me being your treasure,” Aziraphale said. “This is a… mutually beneficial arrangement between the two of us. I get a place to stay, and you get someone to keep you company.”

“We can call it an arrangement; we can call it whatever you like. Is it a bargain, little angel?”

“It’s a bargain, my good, er… dragon. Sorry, are you a male or female dragon?” That was perhaps not the best way to word that question, but Aziraphale honestly didn’t have the first clue how to tell.

“Neither at the moment,” the dragon said.

“Oh, terribly sorry – I didn’t mean to be rude. I was just trying to figure out what to call you,” Aziraphale said.

“My name might be a good start,” said the dragon. “It’s Crowley.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Crowley,” Aziraphale said. As she couldn’t shake hands with a dragon even if she hadn’t been tied up, she offered a friendly sort of nod instead. “I’m Aziraphale.”

“Don’t think I’ve heard of that gender before,” Crowley said.

“No it’s not a gender. Aziraphale is my name; my gender is female,” she explained.

She wasn’t sure what it was that tipped her off – dragon faces were hardly built for the same expressions as human ones – but something in the way they looked ticked a recognition in Aziraphale’s mind. She narrowed her eyes at them. “You’re teasing me.”

Crowley made a rough coughing sort of noise that Aziraphale belatedly realized was laughter. “See, I told you you were a clever little angel. Clever little lady angel. That sounds like fun, actually; I think I’ll try it out.” Crowley shook and from their previously smooth head, three horns sprouted. “There, what do you think? Now we can both be ladies.”

“They’re very…” Aziraphale paused, quite uncertain the particulars of dragon aesthetics and not wanting to offend, “sharp. They’re very sharp.”

Crowley gave a flash of even sharper teeth, but a friendly sort of flash. “Thank you. Now let’s see about getting those ropes off you.” She leaned in closer and breathed.

Aziraphale yelped and flinched back instinctively, but rather than the raging inferno she had expected, only a small thread of flame came out of Crowley’s mouth. It split in two, half going to the rope around her ankles and the other to the one around her wrists. Both ropes were charred and crumbled to dust without Aziraphale’s skin feeling anything more than a warm tickle. “You have a great deal of control,” Aziraphale complimented.

“Over some things I do,” Crowley said, her tone between wry and self-depreciating. “Now,” she lifted her front right paw and set it palm up on the ground directly in front of Aziraphale, “lift home?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the lovely [Euny_Sloane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Euny_Sloane/pseuds/Euny_Sloane) for the beta!

Crowley landed in front of her cave, trying to do it as gently as possible. She lowered her body so her belly pressed against the ground, but before she could lift a foot up to help, Aziraphale had already slid down her side and off her back. As soon as Aziraphale’s feet touched the ground, her knees buckled out from under her and she plopped all the way down.

“Are you hurt?” Crowley asked, peering closely at Aziraphale. Humans could be so fragile sometimes and so hardy other times, and Crowley never knew how to tell which was going to be which. Just from her back to the ground shouldn’t have been enough to hurt, should it?

“No, I’m fine, I just --” Aziraphale took in a deep breath and slowly let it out. “You fly very quickly, don’t you?”

“Not really,” Crowley said. They hadn’t been all that far from her cave to start with; there hadn’t been anything near enough time to build up any real speed. “Wait. Were you scared?”

“Of course not! Just a bit nauseated maybe,” Aziraphale said. “And anyway it was a very frightening sort of experience. Human beings aren’t meant to go that fast or that high up in the air.”

Crowley laughed. Imagine that. This little human had no problem mouthing off to Crowley even we she thought Crowley was going to eat her, but was terrified at the prospect of a little drop. Aziraphale scowled at her. “You needn’t make fun of me,” she said.

“I’m not,” Crowley said. “You don’t need to worry, little angel. I would never let you fall.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale said. She smiled and it was so _soft_. Rounded cheeks and flat teeth and stormy eyes revealing nothing more than gentle delight. Soft, soft, soft. Crowley loved it. “That’s very sweet of you.”

Crowley pulled a face. “Dragons aren’t sweet,” she said. Aziraphale was sweet, not Crowley.

“Of course not, dear” Aziraphale said, and there was the glint of mischief in her eyes. The bit of tart amid the sweet. She patted Crowley on the nose, then stood up. “Well, let’s have a look at this lair, shall we?” She walked off to the cave’s entrance, hips swaying and her curly white-blonde hair hanging down her back like a banner. She was completely unconcerned, like she hadn’t just _patted a dragon on the nose_. Oh yes, Crowley definitely had made the right choice bringing home this piece of treasure.

Not that Crowley would say it like that to Aziraphale’s face, not after she’d explicitly told Crowley they were calling it an arrangement. Crowley didn’t mind calling it that anyway; what they called it didn’t change what it meant. 

Crowley was quite proud of her lair, all things considered. It wasn’t up to snuff with her old one, but she’d had decades to settle into that one before she had needed to change locations, and she’d not been in this one even a full month yet. The cave itself was better than her old one she thought. It was composed of a single large cavern -- the better to be able to see everything all at once with -- but the dark granite walls had enough dips and swells to them to keep things visually interesting. Her treasures were only about two-thirds unpacked and displayed, but the open-faced cabinets full of relics and chests overflowing with artfully arranged gems and coins as well as her few pieces of statuary made a very promising start she thought. 

Aziraphale paused just inside the entrance to the cave with a very particular sort of expression on her face. Crowley didn’t love that expression. “It’s not what I was expecting,” Aziraphale said.

“You don’t like it,” said Crowley. Normally that would be a grave insult; this was her hoard. Someone couldn’t just come around implying it was subpar without expecting some severe consequences for it. But this wasn’t _someone_ , this was Aziraphale, this was Crowley’s treasure, and every instinct in her was now screaming at her to fix it. 

“I didn’t say that,” Aziraphale protested. “I just said it wasn’t what I was expecting. When someone says dragon hoard, what usually springs to mind is great heaps and piles of gold and gems. Yours is much more tidy and, um… modest.”

“Of course that’s what you expect. Lucifer the Great Wyrm does it, and now suddenly now we all have to do it. Great Wyrm. More like great ruddy pillock if you ask me. That’s not properly caring for anything, leaving them all piled like that. Silver tarnishes, gold indents, pearls get scratched up, and diamonds are actually very brittle, you know,” Crowley said. “And if my collection is modest, it’s only because I’m careful about the things I pick. Quality over quantity.”

“I really wasn’t trying to insult you,” Aziraphale said. “It’s just a different aesthetic than I was expecting. It’s still very nice, and very you I’m sure. Although…”

“Although what?” Crowley asked. Her eyes darted around the room, trying to find what was wrong. 

“I was just hoping we might find a corner somewhere that I could make a bit cosier for myself.”

“Of course,” Crowley said. She'd already told Aziraphale she’d get furniture and all the other things Aziraphale needed, and it only made sense for Aziraphale to have her own little space to keep those things in. This went beyond a simple marking of area, this was Aziraphale wanting to make her own space for herself inside of Crowley’s space. How that was supposed to be something Crowley objected to she’d didn't have the foggiest. “This way.”

A few meters in the cave widened out, and to the left there was an alcove. It wasn’t quite closed off enough to count as its own separate room, but it was clearly distinct from the main body of the cave. “Oh, but that’s perfect,” Aziraphale said. “If you really don’t mind moving all the things you already have in there.”

“Nah,” said Crowley. “‘I was just using that space to store things temporarily. This will make me actually figure out where I want to put them.” This was mostly true. Half true. She did consider the things in there to be in storage. It was just that at least half of them were in storage there because that was where she had planned to display them eventually. But now she wanted that space for Aziraphale, and that was that. 

“Thank you,” Aziraphale said. She smiled and did a sort of wiggle that exuded happiness. It made Crowley wish she had a whole other cave to give her. 

Aziraphale glanced down at herself and flushed. “You said something about clothes?”

“Right,” Crowley said. She reached around Aziraphale into the alcove, delicately hooked a claw into the handle of one of the chests in there, pulled it out, and opened it.

Aziraphale gave a coo of delight and bent down to examine Crowley’s collection of beautiful fabrics. She dug her hands in, revelling in the feel of the cloth. But as soon as she pulled the first bolt out, her expression dropped into a frown. “These aren’t clothes, this is just fabric.”

“I don’t keep spare human clothes around, no,” Crowley said. “I’m going to go get some for you in a minute, but I thought you might like something to wrap around yourself in the meanwhile.”

“Oh, that is thoughtful, thank you,” Aziraphale said. Then she sighed. “It’s just a shame; this really would have been a lovely dress.” The fabric in her hands was a sky blue silk covered in delicate gold embroidery. It was undoubtedly the nicest of all the bolts in the chest, but at the moment Crowley was more interested in how good the colours looked against Aziraphale’s skin, how the blue would bring out her eyes and set off the gold her hair.

“Make it into a dress, then,” she suggested.

“Oh. Oh I couldn’t possibly,” Aziraphale said, but there was longing in her eyes as she ran her hand over the fabric.

“Sure you can,” said Crowley. “Beautiful fabric like that deserves to be made into a beautiful dress.”

For a moment Aziraphale looked tempted, and Crowley thought she was going to get another smile or even a happy wiggle. But then Aziraphale placed the fabric back in the chest, giving it a sad little pat. “I’m sure you’re right, but I’m hardly up to the task. I can do a little sewing and mending, but a dress like that really ought to be made by a professional.”

“If you say so,” Crowley conceded, not at all happy with how that had turned out. “I’ll just go and get those clothes for you.”

It wasn’t too far a flight to Anathema’s cottage, much closer than it had been before. That had been one of the deciding factors when Crowley had chosen the location of her new lair. The most important factor had of course been “very far away from other dragons.” She had also hoped that the presence of only one fairly small human settlement nearby would mean they would leave her alone as well -- a point she was very happy to have been proven wrong on. 

Almost as soon as Crowley landed in the meadow in front of Anathema’s house, Adam came tearing around the corner to greet her. Adam was a brown tabby kitten who had reached that unfortunate stage of growth where all his limbs were gangly, though he managed to look graceful despite it, as he jumped up on Crowley’s leg and from there onto her back. Adam’s littermate Brian, scruffy white fur with black splotches, was much less graceful, scrambling to climb up on Crowley’s haunch and failing to make the jump up onto her back completely. Wensleydale, a neat grey tabby, took a spot next to Brian without even bothering to try for Crowley’s back. Bringing up the rear was Pepper, a tortoiseshell, with her tail held high behind her, twitching in annoyance. She settled between Crowley’s front paws and began purring, but her tail didn’t stop.

The front door to the cottage slammed open, and Anathema walked out with a scowl. “And I suppose you’re here to break my broom again.” 

“You ran into me,” Crowley protested. Anathema had flown smack into Crowley’s side while out flying one night; it was hardly Crowley’s fault the broom broke. Crowley had even caught her before she hit the ground. “Besides that was a long time ago. What’s got you in such a bad mood today?”

Anathema sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “Pepper and War were fighting again,” she said. And now that Crowley looked, she could see War, a lithe red-furred cat, watching Pepper from the tree in front of Anathema’s house.

“They’re always fighting,” Crowley pointed out. Anathema had two litters of cats. The older four were mean and hated just about everyone but each other and possibly Anathema. The younger litter, four of five of whom were currently perched on Crowley, were friendly and rambunctious and liked most everyone except the older four cats.

“Yes but this time they knocked over my bottle of Midas water and shattered it. The gold floors I can deal with, but some of it splashed on Warlock and now his back half is gold, which I can’t undo because I don’t have any Midas water left,” she said. “I’ve got a spell on him for now to keep it from hurting him, but…”

“Why hasn’t he fixed it himself?” Crowley asked.

“He can’t…?” replied Anathema. 

”If I can do it, he can do it,” said Crowley. “Bring him out here; I’ll talk to him.”

Anathema gave her a bit of a look, but then went back in the house and came out a moment later with Warlock. He was a brown tabby much like Adam, but with longer fur. He was lying rather pitifully in Anathema’s arms, but when he saw Crowley he perked up and his front paws began making little swimming motions like he was trying to run to Crowley. Anathema brought him over and lifted Warlock up as Crowley lowered her head down, and Warlock began rubbing his face against Crowley’s snout and purring enthusiastically. Crowley allowed it for a moment, then let out a little growl to tell Warlock to pay attention. Warlock listened for a few minutes, then shook himself out, shaking the gold right off. He leaped up out of Anathema’s arms and onto Crowley’s face, trotted up the line of her nose, then curled up right behind her middle horn, purring .

“I can get you more Midas water too, if you like,” Crowley offered. Not that Anathema wasn’t perfectly capable of getting it on her own, but the long flight to the Midas Pool where the water was found would be easier on Crowley than Anathema, and the Guardian of the Pool was much less likely to even bother messing with a dragon.

“I’ll need to get another enchanted bottle first, but yes, thank you,” Anathema said. “I’m guessing you want something in exchange?”

“Human things,” Crowley answered promptly. “Right away I need clothes for a female human and food for a human, but I’m also going to need everything else a human would need. A bed, a dresser, a chair -- probably more than one, actually -- a table, lots of cosy things like blankets and pillows, a rug or two, kitchen things, dishes and mugs, pots, a kettle, tea, a crepe pan…”

“A crepe pan?” Anathema echoed. Crowley nodded her head, gently so as not to disturb the kittens - Adam had clambered up there to join his brother. “What do you need all that stuff for?”

“It’s for my…” Crowley paused. She couldn’t say treasure; Aziraphale might hear about it and get all huffy. But what else could she call her? A friend? Anathema was Crowley’s friend; Aziraphale was more than that. She was, she was… “My... mine. My person.”

“You… aren’t holding someone hostage are you?” Anathema asked.

“Course not,” Crowley said, offended by the suggestion. “Aziraphale is staying with me because she wants to, and she can leave whenever.”

“I see. And who exactly is Aziraphale?” Anathema asked, her arms crossed and eyebrows raised. 

So Crowley explained to her about finding Aziraphale tied up and the whole mess with the virgin sacrifice -- which Anathema was very incensed about -- and Crowley agreeing to take her in.

“But that doesn’t explain why she’s staying with you,” Anathema said.

“I wasn’t going to make her go back to the village after they tried to sacrifice her,” Crowley objected. “Where else was she going to go?”

“Usually you bring them to me. Like the kittens.”

“Well what was I going to do with a litter of kittens?” Crowley’s protests admittedly might have held more weight if said litter of foundling kittens weren’t lounging all over her at the moment, with two grooming each other on top of her head, two in the middle of a mock fight on her leg, and one busy making biscuits on her front paw. 

“And Newt.”

“Newt’s an idiot. He’s lucky I didn’t eat him.” She wouldn’t have. Not really. She only ate idiots who came swinging swords at her, and as annoying as his questions about dragon magic were -- as though dragon magic was some separate thing and not an innate part of who she was -- he’d been perfectly polite about them. Really, foisting him off an Anathema to answer his questions had been the easiest option.

“He’s not an idiot; he knows a lot about magic theory. He just can’t really put it into practice,” Anathema said. “And anyway, clever isn’t the end all, be all.”

“Of course not,” Crowley agreed. “They can’t just be clever; clever people can still be wankers.”

Anathema huffed in frustration. “And I suppose Aziraphale is perfectly clever and delightful.”

“Yeah, a clever, delightful little angel.”

Anathema opened her mouth. Closed it again. Tilted her head to the side. Gave Crowley a _look_. Crowley did not like or trust Anathema’s _looks_. “What?”

“Angel?” Anathema said. The edges of her lips were twitching up as she fought down a smile. Not just a smile, Crowley recognized that smile; it was her knowing smile. As if there was some secret here to know. 

“It’s a nickname, witch girl,” Crowley shot back. She was still _looking_ at her with that knowing smile. 

“Yeah I got that.” She kept looking at her for a moment longer, then Anathema’s smile softened into something friendly and she smoothed out her skirt. “You said your Aziraphale needed clothes? Do you have her measurements?”

“I didn’t ask for them. What are your measurements?” Crowley asked. Anathema rattled off a string of numbers, and, after eyeing her carefully, Crowley gave her own set of numbers that were probably reasonably close to Aziraphale’s. 

“Well, most of my dresses will be too small for her, but I can probably find a few things that will work for the short term. Let me go get them; I’ll be right back.” Anathema turned and headed back to the cottage. 

“Don’t forget the food,” Crowley called after her. Crowley could always go catch a deer and roast it, but she wanted to be able to serve Aziraphale something a little more sophisticated than that if possible.

Anathema returned about ten minutes later, carrying a sack and a bit of rope. Crowley ducked her head so that the rope could be tossed around her neck, then either end of it was tied to the mouth of the sack. “I’ve included two dresses that should work okay until I can get some things that are the right size, as well as all the necessary underthings. A pair of shoes and a pair of slippers that should fit even if the shoes don’t. A bedroll for her to use until we can get her a real bed. Some writing supplies so she can make a list of what all she wants. And finally, I included my tablecloth.”

“Your tablecloth?” Crowley said, surprised. That was far beyond what Crowley had expected, not to mention Anathema normally wouldn’t even let Crowley get near the tablecloth, for fear of dragon covetousness. 

“I do expect it back,” Anathema said firmly. “But she can borrow it for now. I’m sure your Aziraphale has enough to deal with at the moment without having to worry about food on top of it.”

“I owe you one,” Crowley said.

“You owe me a lot,” Anathema retorted. “Midas water isn’t even going to begin to cover all this.”

“Yes, yes, a pound of scales and my firstborn. We can sort out the details later.” Crowley said. She shook gently, dislodging the kittens. “Alright you fur balls, time for me to go.”

The kittens all gave a few mews of protest, but obediently hopped down. Well, Adam, Warlock and Wensleydale hopped down, Pepper had already been on the ground and Brian didn’t hop so much as tumble end over end until he landed in a heap. The five of them began stalking off toward the tree where War had been joined by the white Pollution, black Famine, and tuxedo Death. Crowley bid goodbye to Anathema and got out of there before she was roped into mediating a cat fight.

When Crowley returned to her lair, Aziraphale was out front, working on something. In Crowley’s absence she had fashioned herself a make-shift toga, though not, Crowley was disappointed to see, out of the blue silk. The fabric she was wearing was still blue, but a linen and free of embroidery. It was remarkable only in the gradient of the dye, moving from a deep midnight blue to an ice blue so pale it was nearly white. The garment looked good on Aziraphale, but not as good as the silk would have.

Aziraphale looked up as Crowley landed and smiled at her -- not a special smile, just an ordinary friendly sort of smile -- and said, “Welcome home.” Really, how could Anathema have possibly questioned why Crowley would want to keep Aziraphale around? Crowley had never had anyone to smile at her and welcome her home before. And Aziraphale was such a clever pretty little angel.

“I’m home. Did you miss me?” Crowley asked, a wry tilt to her voice.

Aziraphale gave a vague hum, dodging the question entirely. Crowley didn’t mind; she was in no rush. “I’ve been building a fire pit,” Aziraphale said instead. She had approached Crowley and was untying the sack from around her neck. “I thought I’d probably need it, especially as I don’t have any sort of kitchen at the moment. Are these the clothes, then?”

“And a few other things. Pull out the tablecloth first,” Crowley instructed.

“Alright, though I don’t see what I need a tablecloth for. I appreciate the gesture, but I don’t even have a table at the moment.” Aziraphale said, digging through the bag and pulling out the tablecloth despite her protests. At first glance it was a serviceable but plain piece of cotton, undyed and about the size for a rectangular table for six.

“Shake it out like you were placing it on a table,” Crowley instructed.

With a brief sceptical glance, Aziraphale did as instructed, then marvelled as the tablecloth suspended itself mid-air as though there really were a table under it. “Oh, that is useful! Imagine having a table you can carry in your pocket.”

“That’s not what it’s for,” Crowley said. Admittedly that could be useful, but it rather paled in comparison to what the tablecloth actually did. “Ask it for food. Whatever you like.”

“You want me to ask the tablecloth for food?” Aziraphale asked uncertainly. 

“Look, it’s obviously a magic tablecloth, yeah? Borrowed it off a witch and everything. So ask it for something to eat.”

Aziraphale reached out and gently pressed her fingers to the tablecloth. “Uh, hello there. Would you mind being a dear and getting me a, a roast chicken?”

A roast chicken appeared on the tablecloth, steaming faintly and smelling very delicious even to Crowley, who usually didn’t go in for chicken -- too small -- or any meat that wasn’t either raw or burned to a crisp. “Crowley, there is a chicken on that tablecloth,” Aziraphale said. 

“Like I said, magic tablecloth. Go ahead, try some.”

Aziraphale picked up the fork that, along with a plate and knife, had appeared next to the platter with the roast chicken. She carefully teased a piece of chicken from the whole and placed it in her mouth. Her eyes fluttered closed and she let out a soft pleased sigh as she ate it. “Oh, that is scrumptious.” She punctuated the statement with a happy wiggle. Clearly Crowley owed Anathema a whole lake of Midas water and a dragon’s worth of scales and feathers for this one. 

“Can it make other things as well?” Aziraphale asked.

“Any kind of food or drink you can think of. It’ll usually give you any dishes or cutlery you need to go with it, but if it doesn’t give you what you want as far as that goes, you can’t ask for it,” Crowley said. “At least, that’s how I think it works; I’ve never used it, and Anathema only let me see it once before.”

“Why?”

Such a funny little angel. “Most people know better than to let a dragon around their valuables,” she said with a sharp-toothed grin. “But apparently you being here qualifies as a special occasion.”

“How very sweet of her,” Aziraphale gushed. “You must thank her for me.”

“You’ll probably be able to thank her yourself; Anathema’s nosy. Actually, that’s probably why she leant out the tablecloth, to give her an excuse to come to come poking around.”

“Oh pish,” said Aziraphale. “I’m sure she’s perfectly delightful. Are the dresses from her as well?”

“Yeah. She said they might be a bit small for you, but they should work okay until we can get ones in your size. Same for the bedroll and getting a real bed. There should also be pen and paper in there as well. Make up a list of all the things you need -- the big stuff like a bed, table and chairs, I can probably mostly figure out, but you said you wanted it to be cosy, so put all that stuff down. Oh, and the books. Write down all the books you want. Then I’ll work with Anathema to get it all for you.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale said. She had been rooting through the bag looking at the dresses, but now she was looking at Crowley, her eyes all big and blue and wet.

“Are you crying?” Crowley asked with alarm. She hadn’t meant to make Aziraphale _cry_.

“No, of course not,” Aziraphale said, wiping under her eyes. “I just… you really are going to an awful lot of trouble for me, aren’t you?”

Crowley was honestly baffled. “I told you I’d take care of you.”

“Yes, I know you did, but I thought… well, I suppose I had originally assumed that you already had most of the things I need -- a dragon’s hoard, you know. And even after I’d seen that you keep things minimal and tidy, I hadn’t quite connected… Oh, you’re just being so nice to me.”

“Dragons aren’t nice,” Crowley said automatically. Aziraphale was Crowley’s treasure, her clever little angel, of course Crowley was getting her everything she needed. That wasn’t -- she wasn’t being _nice_. “Look, why don’t you eat your chicken before it gets cold. I’ll go find you something to use as a chair.”

By the time Crowley had returned with a rock of the right height that had a nice wide flat spot for sitting, Aziraphale had conjured up a whole spread to go with her chicken and changed into one of Anathema’s dresses. The dress did look too small for her; it was squeezing her in a way that didn’t appear comfortable. But she had stopped crying at least, which was good. Crowley didn’t know how to handle crying.

Aziraphale sat down on her rock-chair, and Crowley settled herself in a semi-circle behind her, her head coming to rest on the ground to Aziraphale’s left. That gave Crowley the perfect vantage point from which to watch Aziraphale savour every last morsel. Even after Aziraphale finished eating, they stayed out for a while. Aziraphale was happy to ramble on about anything -- her books being a favourite topic of discussion -- with only a little prompting from Crowley, and Crowley was happy to watch Aziraphale be happy. They only noticed how much time had passed when the sun set and the sky went dark.

“Should I light the fire?” Crowley suggested, flames licking the back of her throat.

“That would be--” Aziraphale’s sentence cut off as she yawned. “Oh, goodness. I was going to say that would be lovely, but perhaps I best turn in; it’s been a very eventful day after all. Though I confess I am not looking forward to sleeping on the ground, even with the supplement of the bedroll Anathema has generously provided.”

There were solutions Crowley could offer, even without an actual bed. The most obvious would be for Aziraphale to take the trunk full of fabrics and lay them all down on top of one of the tapestries Crowley had hanging, then place her bedroll on top of that. Between all of that, there was bound to be enough cushion to make sleeping on the ground bearable. 

Instead of making that suggestion, Crowley said, “Follow me,” picked up the bedroll, and led the way into the cave.

In the back right corner of the cave, there was a spot that had originally started out as a small dip in the floor. Crowley had dug and scraped with her claws and tail at the dip until she’d made a large round indentation, about as deep as her foot was tall. Then she had filled the space up with volcanic sand - a nightmare to import, but well worth the effort. It was a lovely dragon bed, the perfect size for curling up in.

Crowley got herself settled, then placed the bedroll on top of her, nosing it into the indentation where her back leg met her belly. “There you go, that should be more comfortable for you.”

“But I…” Aziraphale wrung her hands. “I couldn’t possibly impose.”

“Course you can. You’re tiny, little angel. I’ll barely even noticed the difference.” This was true. If one was speaking strictly in terms of weight, that was. Aziraphale continued to dither over it, and finally Crowley said, “If you’d rather sleep on the floor…”

“No, no I suppose not.” Aziraphale made her way over to Crowley, then slowly clambered up Crowley’s side and into her bedroll. “Oh! Oh, this is very lovely and cosy. Thank you, dear.”

“You don’t have to _thank_ me.” Crowley was just taking care of Aziraphale, like she said. Besides, she liked having her treasure close.

“Even if I don’t have to, I want to. _Thank you_ ,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley huffed, but, sensing she wasn’t going to win this one, she didn’t argue. She laid her head down, closed her eyes. She could just barely feel Aziraphale shifting against her belly, feather light movements as Aziraphale settled into place. Finally her movements ceased as she made a soft sigh. In response Crowley let out a contented rumble.

“Are you… are you purring?”

Crowley lazily opened one eye to look at Aziraphale. “Yes.”

“Oh. I didn’t know dragons could purr.”

Crowley shut her eye again. “Seems like there’s a lot about dragons that wasn’t in those books of yours.”

“Yes, that does seem to be the case,” Aziraphale agreed. “I’m looking forward to learning more. Goodnight, dear.”

“Goodnight, little angel.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the lovely [Euny_Sloane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Euny_Sloane/pseuds/Euny_Sloane) for the beta!

Aziraphale woke up on top of a dragon. This was hardly surprising, as that was where she had fallen asleep the night before, but it was still the sort of thing that left her feeling rather off balance. She hadn’t been prepared for her life changing so rapidly. This morning Aziraphale had woken up on top of a sleeping dragon -- a dragon that had been purring the night before, as that was apparently a thing that dragons did -- when yesterday morning she had started the day off half-convinced she was going to be eaten by a dragon. Two mornings ago she had woken up in the same house she’d lived in all her life, in the same room she’d slept in all her life, resigned to spending the rest of her life in the very same manner, provided Gabriel’s eventual wife didn’t decide to kick Aziraphale out. 

Well, resigned was probably a strong word for it; made the whole thing sound rather terrible really. Aziraphale had chosen that path for herself, even if she had done so because the only other option was to get married to some man she had no interest in. But now instead, Aziraphale found herself living out an unexpected third option, waking up in a dragon’s lair on top of a dragon who was bound and determined to take care of her. It was hard to say who was more baffled: Aziraphale at the very concept or Crowley at Aziraphale’s continued bafflement.

Really, when was the last time someone had taken care of Aziraphale? Gabriel expected Aziraphale to take care of his needs, never the other way around. Her father had loved her in his own way, but, well, it had very much been in his own way. He had loved her, but he had had a clear vision in his mind of what he expected a daughter to be, and there had been a constant low grade sense of disappointment from him that Aziraphale had failed to live up to his vision. She had had an assortment of friends at one time or other, people she got along with, whose company she enjoyed, and who helped her out from time to time, just as she did for them. But that wasn’t the same thing as properly taking care of someone. 

Her mother, Aziraphale eventually decided. Her mother had been the last person to really take care of her. Aziraphale’s mother had died when Aziraphale had been only four years old and Aziraphale only had one clear memory of her, but it was a very comforting one. Aziraphale had just… well, she couldn’t even remember what it was she had done anymore, only that she had been terrified of getting in trouble for it. Her mother had asked her about it, had looked Aziraphale right in the eye, and Aziraphale had lied Her mother had known she was lying, she must have -- no three year old was a particularly gifted liar, even if Aziraphale didn’t distinctly recall having to learn how to lie convincingly in her teen years. But her mother hadn’t said a word about her obvious lie. She hadn’t scolded Aziraphale at all. Instead she’d knelt down to wipe a smudge of dirt off Aziraphale’s cheek and told Aziraphale there were fresh sticky buns about to come out of the oven when Aziraphale was done playing in the garden. 

Not that Aziraphale was comparing Crowley and her mother; they were very different sort of relationships, obviously, and Aziraphale had only just met Crowley. Still, she supposed they were friends now - they would have to be if living together was going to be tenable for any sort of longer term. 

And Aziraphale liked Crowley, even beyond gratitude for what Crowley was doing for her. Crowley was interesting and witty, and actually very kind, even though she came at the last a bit sideways. Crowley was the kind of person -- and she was a person, and a far better one than any of the humans who thought being a dragon excluded her -- Aziraphale would like to be friends with. And friendship could grow into a type of love in its own right. Granted, if Crowley’s had already reached that stage in her mind, that was going too fast for Aziraphale. They’d only just met the day before; love, even friendly love, ought to take time. On the other hand, Aziraphale supposed as long as she was allowed to go at her own pace, there wasn’t any harm in Crowley racing on ahead, so to speak.

Aziraphale slid, bedroll in tow, down off of Crowley and on to the floor before stretching her arms up toward the ceiling and rolling briefly up to her toes. She tidied her bedroll up and wondered how long exactly dragons typically slept for. Her reading suggested dragons went to sleep less often than humans but slept for longer when they did, but those books had been proving to be rather hit and miss when it came to accurately describing dragons. On the other hand, that didn’t mean she could completely discount the possibility they were right and Crowley was going to be sleeping for a while yet.

Well, this was a dragon’s lair. If she couldn’t find a way to entertain herself here then there was no hope for her.

Since nearly everything Crowley had was either pushed up to the wall or near to it, the most logical approach would have been to start at one point, maybe the entrance of the cave, and then slowly work her way around the room. That had been Aziraphale’s intention at first, but then she had spotted a particularly interesting-looking tapestry and somehow she ended up rambling around the space as one thing after another caught her eye. She was so absorbed in the task she didn’t even notice at first when Crowley started shifting around behind her.

“Good morning, little angel.” Much like the purring, Crowley stretched out in a way that also reminded Aziraphale of a cat, albeit a cat with a serpentine neck and great feathered wings. 

“Good morning,” Aziraphale replied, clutching the necklace she was holding a little tighter as she suppressed the frankly ridiculous urge to hide it behind her back like a misbehaving child. She had permission to poke about if she wanted to. In fact, Crowley had outright encouraged it, saying it made no sense to get something new to put in Aziraphale’s little nook if Crowley already had something that Aziraphale liked. The only caveat had been not to damage anything, and that wasn’t even really a caveat so much as it was common courtesy. 

“Found anything interesting yet?” asked Crowley, sauntering over to where Aziraphale was stood. 

“Oh, it’s all interesting,” Aziraphale said. This was the absolute truth, but from the pleased way Crowley’s wing feathers fluffed, it also appeared to be the correct answer.

“Then have you found anything _especially_ interesting?” There was a lilt to Crowley’s voice that had Aziraphale eyeing her.

“Why? What is it I’m meant to be finding?” she asked.

“You’ll know it when you see it,” Crowley said, and declined to elaborate further. Instead she turned away from Aziraphale and began tidying up around the cave. Which, incidentally, was how Aziraphale realized what a large mess she had been making that morning.

“Oh goodness. I’m so sorry; I didn’t even realize… I’m sure I meant to put all those things away after I’d finished looking at them, I just…”

“Hmm?” Crowley looked over at her, appearing momentarily confused as to what Aziraphale was even referring to. She glanced back down at the goblet she was carefully returning to its rightful spot and realization seemed to click. “Oh, that. It’s fine; don’t worry about it.”

“But I’ve made such a mess!” Aziraphale protested, feeling enormously guilty. She’d always been like this, practically incapable of keeping things tidy. She could clean the whole house top to bottom and in half a day things would be all over the place again. Assuming she had ever even noticed they were out of place at all. Gabriel had constantly been on her about it, and that had been in her own home. Technically she hadn’t broken the rules -- or rather rule -- Crowley had laid out for her regarding the lair, but she had certainly broken the rules of common courtesy. “At the very least let me help you put everything back.”

“I told you, don’t worry about it.” Crowley reached over and gently tugged away the chest Aziraphale had been trying to repack, despite not remembering exactly which things strewn about the floor and table tops around her had come out of it. “Honestly. I never mind having an excuse to inventory my treasure. Go look for your surprise, little angel.” 

With that Aziraphale was gently nosed away from her fretful attempts at tidying and, after another moment of hand-wringing, she conceded to Crowley’s suggestion. Though admittedly it did take Crowley telling her to leave it a few more times before she stopped trying to put things back away after she was done with them, and probably another ten minutes after that before she got wrapped up enough again to stop thinking about it altogether.

As the morning progressed, Aziraphale made messes and Crowley tidied up at about the same rate. The cleaning Crowley was doing was a more time-consuming process, but Aziraphale was constantly pausing to examine all the interesting things she found. Though none of them were _the_ interesting thing yet. At least, she didn’t think so. It was hard to be sure when she didn’t know what she was meant to be looking for, but Crowley kept insisting she’d know it when she saw it. 

After quite a bit of exploring, Aziraphale started to feel a bit faint with hunger, prompting her to realize she hadn’t actually had anything to eat at all that despite it being well past breakfast and into lunchtime by now. She set the tablecloth up in front of a charming little bench, which she was thinking she might ask to place at the foot of her bed -- once she had one -- and summoned up a delicious and rather large lunch. “Would you care to join me?” she asked Crowley. “I’m sure we could get a sufficiently large roast summoned up for you if we were specific enough.”

“Nah, I’m fine. I ate the day before yesterday,” Crowley answered. “Maybe tomorrow.”

Aziraphale couldn’t imagine eating only once every few days -- she enjoyed food far too much to want to go that long between meals -- but she could acknowledge there was a certain efficiency to it. Certainly it was benefiting Crowley at the moment, as she was able to continue tidying while Aziraphale was eating. Though she could probably be about it a lot faster if she hadn’t continued to keep one eye on Aziraphale the whole time. But then Aziraphale supposed that might be Crowley’s way of joining Aziraphale for lunch without actually joining her in eating. This supposition was borne out when Aziraphale began asking questions about the treasures as Crowley was putting them away, and Crowley happily chattered on about them. 

It was hard to be certain at first, as Aziraphale wasn’t all that familiar with Crowley’s hoard yet, but after a while she started to think Crowley wasn’t always putting things back where Aziraphale had originally taken them from. It seemed that perhaps she was taking advantage of her tidying to do a little redecorating as well. This suspicion was confirmed when Crowley picked up a sword Aziraphale hadn’t even touched yet.

Crowley considered the sword carefully for a moment, then brought it to a space on the other side of the cave. She set the sword down on the floor and moved on to inspecting the wall. After a moment she held her front right foot up, toes curled so one wickedly sharp claw was held apart from the rest. Then she reached up and began carefully but deftly carving away at the rock wall. Even with the care she was taking, she made quick work of it, creating a pair of hooks that jutted out from the surrounding stone, which cradled the hilt of the sword perfectly when Crowley dropped it in point-down.

“Oh, how marvellous,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley glanced over at her. “What, the sword? It is pretty nice, yeah.”

“No, not the sword, though it’s perfectly nice, I’m sure. I was talking about watching you make the hanger for it; it’s always lovely to watch a craftsperson at work.”

“Oh. That. ‘S nothing, really,” Crowley said, bobbing her head a little. 

“It most certainly was not nothing. It was positively graceful to watch, my dear. And such a clean and beautiful result. I certainly couldn’t have managed anything half as well even with proper tools, but you did it just with your claws. I had no idea they were that sharp.” It was a rather alarming thing to learn. At least it should have been, but in all honestly Aziraphale didn’t feel particularly alarmed. 

“They aren’t most of the time; I’d tear the floor to pieces if they were,” Crowley said. “I just make them sharper or harder if I need to and then let them go back to normal after.”

“Well, that really makes it even more impressive, doesn’t it?” Both that Crowley could change the composition of her claws like that, and that she knew exactly how to adjust them to be the perfect tool she needed for the job.

Crowley’s feet curled and uncurled a few times. “Yeah, well, anyway. Found that surprise yet?”

Aziraphale was momentarily confused but the abrupt shift in topic, but then a smile blossomed across her face. Imagine a dragon being shy about receiving compliments. How adorable. Aziraphale decided to take pity on the poor dear and let the change of topic stand unremarked on. “No, I haven’t. I don’t suppose you might be willing to give me a clue?”

“You don’t need a clue, little angel. Not when you’re so close.”

Aziraphale was about to protest that she actually would very much like a clue when she realized that was it. Aziraphale was _close_. She looked around for what nearby might be it or where it might be stored. At first there didn’t seem to be any likely candidates, but then she recalled the bench she was sat on -- it wasn’t just a bench; it also had a storage space built into it. Aziraphale stood and flipped the top open, revealing the treasure inside. “Oh, Crowley.”

“I take it you’ll be wanting those set up in your nook?” Crowley asked, all faux innocence. As if she had no idea how Aziraphale felt.

“Crowley you have _books_.” An entire chest full of beautifully bound, exquisitely maintained books. “Why didn’t you tell me you had books?”

“Wouldn’t have been much of a surprise if I had told you,” Crowley said.

“I suppose not, but… Oh, I don’t even know how you get anything else done when you have all these to read.” Aziraphale picked up one of the books on the top -- a treatise on the night sky -- and lovingly stroked the supple leather, her fingers gently tracing the slight dips of the embossed stars. 

“Reading is a bit more of a challenge for me than it is for you.”

Right. Of course. It wasn’t that Aziraphale had forgotten Crowley was a massively large dragon; that sort of thing was hard to forget. But she had let it settle away from the top of mind, so she hadn’t really considered the logistical challenges something like that would pose for reading. It made her sad just to think about, on behalf of both Crowley and the books. Aziraphale set the astronomy book back among its fellows, and gave it a conciliatory stroke.

Aziraphale gave a clap of delight as an idea occurred to her. “I could read them to you.”

“You don’t need to do that,” Crowley said.

“To the contrary, I’m very sure I do. Having such a beautiful collection and not being able to enjoy it; it’s unconscionable.” It would be a win for everyone, really. Crowley would be able to enjoy her books, the books would be enjoyed the way they deserved, and it had been ages since Aziraphale had anyone she could read to. “In fact, after such a busy morning tidying up, I think it’s about time for a break. Which one of these books is your favourite?”

“I like all of them; I wouldn’t have them if I didn’t,” Crowley said. “If you really want to read one, then you can pick whichever you like.”

“I do want to,” Aziraphale said. “Unless you don’t want…”

Crowley let out a huff, a small tendril of smoke curling up from out of her nostril. Aziraphale was a little worried she’d made Crowley angry, but Crowley didn’t look particularly angry. At least, Aziraphale didn’t think she did. Oh, she was definitely going to need to learn how to read dragon facial expressions, wasn’t she?

“The play, there on the top,” Crowley said, her tone… amused, Aziraphale was going to go with amused. Crowley sauntered over to her bed, curled up, and looked at Aziraphale expectantly. “Read to me from that one.”

Aziraphale found the book Crowley had mentioned, and brought it over with her to Crowley. “I don’t think I’ve heard of this one before,” Aziraphale said. She sat down inside the centre of curve of Crowley’s body and rested her back up against Crowley’s side. Perhaps it should have felt overly intimate, but after having spent the night lying on top of her, this little bit of contact hardly seemed worth mentioning. 

“I saw it performed once, a few years back,” Crowley said.

“Ah.” Aziraphale tried to picture the enormous bulk of Crowley sitting inside a theatre and failed utterly. Presumably it had been some sort of outdoor performance, but still she just could not wrap her mind around it. “Well then, let me know if there are any nuances I’m missing, since we’re not getting the full experience here.”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” Crowley said.

Aziraphale smiled and gave Crowley a little pat on the side. “Thank you, dear.” Then she opened the book and began to read.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are hoarded like dragon treasure. Or you can come say hi to me on [tumblr.](https://nicnacsnonsense.tumblr.com/)


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